


Cushioned and Adored

by skitockså (Okumen)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Body Worship, Light Bondage, M/M, brief mention of extreme homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/pseuds/skitocks%C3%A5
Summary: Attenborough returns to the room, another heavy load in his arms. He sends Reuenthal a questioning glance, and drops the load. Reuenthal suddenly finds his back pressed into a thick, plush matress of blankets, his wrists caught in one of Attenboroughs warm hands, another hand pressed against his bare chest.
Relationships: Dusty Attenborough/Oskar von Reuenthal
Kudos: 2





	Cushioned and Adored

**Author's Note:**

> Titles will be my bane.
> 
> Some little Attenthal body worship, this sucky day (I got more sick than I already was, always fun) to make it a bit better
> 
> Another twitter-fic: https://twitter.com/tofinut/status/1353808628722135040
> 
> If twitter decides to ban nsfw stuff, I will probably write these low-pressure stuff on pillowfort instead, I'm tofinator there.

Attenborough has been collecting every blanket and pillow, any comforter and throw-rug that he can find. And Reuenthals house is big, with plenty of furniture. He has collected a considerable pile.

Reuenthal himself has been at work, in an extended meeting with the Kaiser and his admiralität, and only discovers that his home has been partially ransacked when he enters his bedroom to change out of his uniform, late in the evening. Reuenthal peers at the large pile on the bed, sees the things spill over. He never realised just how much of that stuff he has.

Attenborough enters the room with an armful of fabric, and he lights up when he spots Reuenthal near the closet. "You're back!" the ex-soldier excaims in that cheerful way of his. He drops his load (Reuenthal thinks that, didn't he have that massive old fur coat tossed out years ago?) and comes over to Reuenthal. His arms loops over his shoulders and his fingers curl at his neck. Reuenthal feels them at his hair line, grazing tips, before he is drawn into a kiss.

It's slow, purposeful, lips against lips, satisfied to not plunge deep even though there is the clear presence of desire in the way those hands clench a little tighter, in the way that breath shakes just a little against his lip.

Reuenthal slips his hands around Attenboroughs waist, draws him in closer.

Attenborough pulls away.

The loss of the warmth of his body is startling.

Reuenthal lets his hands, longing for that solid waist and shape of a hip-bone against them, drop to his sides in disappointment. He almost misses Attenboroughs words.

"I'm gonna do one last sweep of the house, and when I return, I want you naked on that bed."

Reuenthal feels the shiver run through his body, spreading from his back, and racing to cover him, down to his toes, up to his scalp. He's just about to open his mouth, to ask Attenborough "why?" but the younger man is already out of the room. Reuenthal can hear him in the stairs.

He turns to the closet, and, ignoring the prescense of the bed - which seems more an animals nest than anything else - and the rummaging sounds from the first floor, Reuenthal slips his fingers over buttons, undoing them first on his jacket, then on his shirt. He pulls them off one layer at a time, carefully hanging them up so they won't wrinkle. The day had been cold, making them more prone to feeling a chill than a sweat as they discussed policies and politics regarding the absorption of Neueland. The former Free Planets Alliance. Reuenthal glances toward the door. Neueland is Attenboroughs homeland, the nation that he fought against Reuenthals fatherland for, for over a decade. He wants to talk to him about it, but he also knows that he can't, because in the end, Attenborough, however much Reuenthal cares for him (and he cares for him a lot, much more than he ever thought possible) is a former member of the former rebel fleet, one of the commanders the closest to the retired Marshal Yang Wenli, and as such, one of the former FPA starfleet commanders viewed with the most suspicion. Reuenthal knows that in particular, Oberstein regards him with a certain wariness, like a possible element to be taken care of, a potential threat, for his association with Attenborough.

Is he a dangerous element? He honestly doesn't know. But he also really doesn't care what a man like Oberstein thinks about him, even when Mittermeyer tells him to be careful. Reuenthal is careful, he minds his words, when it comes to the discussions and the decisions, but he also---

Attenborough returns to the room, another heavy load in his arms. He sends Reuenthal a questioning glance, and drops the load. Reuenthal suddenly finds his back pressed into a thick, plush matress of blankets, his wrists caught in one of Attenboroughs warm hands, another hand pressed against his bare chest. "What a bad boy you are, _sir_."

The way that Attenborough says that, particularily the way that "sir" rolls off his tongue, like oil slipping through water, sends a violent shiver through Reuenthals body.

Reuenthal is careful, he is, but he is also deeply involved, caught up by emotions that had seemed to be forbidden to him, until the moment that Attenborough first caught his face between his calloused hands and kissed him with his chapped, soft lips.

Reuenthal has it bad, for this man, and he knows that had he met Attenborough only a few years earlier, they would have both been executed, Attenborough for being a rebel, Reuenthal for wanting a rebel, both of them for being homosexuals. Now though, people in the know choose to look away, because they all know that the Kaiser had been more than friends with that redhaired companion of his. (Everyone except Oberstein, but that man seem to have certain difficulties understanding human relations overall.)

Reuenthal groans into the kiss, not because it is too harsh, but because it is too gentle.

He is held in place, as Attenboroughs free hand slides over the naked expanse of Reuenthals chest, seeking every dip and rise with his fingertips.

In no time at all, Reuenthal is a shivering mess underneath Attenboroughs touch.

Attenborough rocks his body, slowly grinding their cocks together. Through the fabric of both their trousers, Reuenthal can feel Attenboroughs swell against his own.

"Make more of those pretty sounds for me, sir," Attenborough murmurs against Reuenthals lips. Again, that tone in his voice. Reuenthal feels almost smothered by it, in the best possible way imaginable. There is a slow ache in his body, as blood rushes to his crotch. He feels light headed, but it's not entirely from how all his blood seems to be of one mind, of showing Attenborough his appreciation for the intimacy without word or sound.

Not that he can stop the sounds from spillning from his mouth. Not that he _wants_ to stop the sounds. He wants to oblige, let Attenborough know in every way that he can, that he loves the way that he is being touched by a slow, steady hand, and the way that every kiss is savoured by them both.

Attenboroughs hand moves away from Reuenthals chest, and Reuenthal tips his head back when he feels thick, soft rope tighten around his wrists. A curtain tie-back, golden and slippery sleek. From the library, Reuenthal thinks. He sees Attenborough attach it with another to a heavy pile of unidentifiable fabric. He turns his gaze back to Attenborough. "So this is how it is, is it?" He's meant to give all control over to Attenborough. "Very well." He can do that.

Attenborough moves back so he doesn't hover with his body above Reuenthals, and there is the slip of lips on lips as he once again fits their mouths together to kiss. Both his hands slide down to Reuenthals chest.

It's a slow, tender caress of both lips and palms.

Attenborough only barely moves his hips, pressing their arousals together.

"Now," Attenborough murmurs after some time of simple kisses and touches. "I'm afraid I have to punish you a little, Marshal Reuenthal, sir." His breath is warm against Reuenthals lips. "You misbehaved, after all."

Attenborough hums slowly in thought. His nails slides gently down Reuenthals chest.

"Oh. I know."

Attenborough pulls his lips from Reuenthals, which is a disappointment.

There is a sharp sting, and Reuenthal gasps as he feels Attenboroughs teeth bury in his skin.

His teeth are pressing in at the middle, between shoulder and jaw, too much toward the front of Reuenthals throat to be at the side, too far to the side to be at the front. Reuenthal can't help the strangled whimper he lets out.

Attenborough sits back on his toes and knees, to look at his handiwork. Reuenthal can feel warmth trickle down his skin, and sees Attenborough lick his lips clean of a smear of red. He's bit deep, and it's going to leave a wound for at least a few days.

"You are so delicious, sir," he says. He's wearing a smug expression on his face. There is a predatory hunger in his gaze. Reuenthal swallows. That look in his eyes is unfailingly such a turn-on.

"You're not a vampire, Attenborough."

Attenborough laughs, and when he leans in, Reuenthal can taste the last metallic traces of blood on his tongue.

"Maybe I am, though."

Reuenthal huffs. He doesn't say that imagining Attenborough as a blood-sucking vampire about to drain him is incredibly hot.

Attenborough kisses him again, and then he slides down a bit, to drag his hands over Reuenthals hip bones.

He traces his touches there, at Reuenthals waistline and abdomen. He presses his lips against Reuenthals skin, and his soft hair tickles. Reuenthal sighs in contentment, and feels his body relax more and more, the longer he is touched. Sometimes, he feels Attenborough suck on his skin, gently, yet hard enough to leave marks.

He didn't notice that Attenborough had unbottoned his slacks until he feels them slide down. It's a slow trailing of fabric, followed closely by tender kisses. They stop at his ankles, and Reuenthal hears one shoe drop to the floor, then the other.

Soon, he is completely naked.

Attenborough stares down at him, with that intense, intense look on his face.

"You are so damn pretty," Attenborough says. His voice is almost a whisper. Reuenthal looks away. "I know," Attenborough murmurs. He caresses one of Reuenthals knees. "But you are."

Reuenthal looks back up when Attenborough crawls back on top of him, hovering above him.

"I don't believe you."

Attenborough caresses Reuenthals cheek. Reuenthals eyelids feels heavy.

"I know."

Reuenthal has every reason to loathe his appearance. Attenborough has never denied that. Yet he keeps complimenting him, and sometimes it even feels believable. Reuenthal knows he looks good. He just hates it. Sometimes, though. Sometimes he doesn't hate it as much.

He sinks into the kiss, and he sees only a silver of Attenboroughs face, before he closes his eyes fully.

He can feel the mans trousers coarse fabric pressing against his skin. Feel his tags tap chill touches to his jaw. It's an incredibly vulnerable position, to be naked in front of one who is fully dressed. Reuenthal wants to grasp at Attenboroughs wrists, but his arms are still stretched out above him. He can feel the tip of his cock brushing against the cold metal of Attenboroughs belt buckle.

Attenborough brushes Reuenthals bangs out of his face, and press their foreheads together. Reuenthal opens his eyes to look up at him, but scrunches them together again when Attenborough leans in close to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. He feels the breath of a laugh against his skin.

Attenborough pulls away. He slides down, off of Reuenthal.

Reuenthal feels lips press to the inside of his left ankle. Then one to his right. Reuenthal lets out a shaky breath as Attenborough slowly starts to trail kisses along his legs.

Down to kiss each of his toes. Shifting to kiss each prominence of his ankles. Lifting each foot to kiss his heels, and the Achilles' tendon. Small nips of teeth soon soothed by lips and tongue, up his shins. Kiss after kiss against each spot of his knees. Then the fold of his knees.

Reuenthals head tips back and he draws deep, shivering breaths as Attenborough lavishes attention to his legs. Every little spot, he seems intent on pressing at least one kiss to. Preferrably more than that. Reuenthals cock drips precum onto his stomach. Reuenthal says his lovers name on his breath, as he feels more and more as though every bone in his body disappears. Attenborough says nothing, only presses another kiss to Reuenthals skin, and another, another.

The breath that brushes against Reuenthals cock is warm, and it carries a gentle laugh with it. Reuenthal groans in quiet protest when all Attenborough does is give its head a slow, drawn-out kiss, and nothing more.

But he can feel the tip brush against Attenboroughs skin as he continues trailing his kisses along Reuenthals skin, at his hips, at his waist, at his stomach. He can feel it brush against Attenboroughs clothes, as he reaches further up.

Attenborough presses his soft kisses down the length of Reuenthals arm, and as he kisses his wrist and fingers, he curls their fingers together gently. He keeps Reuenthals hand in his grasp, as he moves back up, crosses the stretch of collarbone to his other arm. He laces their other fingers together, as well.

Then he reaches Reuenthals throat, and he presses soft kiss after soft kiss to his Adams apple, before moving the tender touches to the bite he left before. Reuenthals fingers clench around Attenboroughs hands as bis breath caresses the wounds.

"You'll have to be mindful of your movements," he murmurs. "So long as you are careful, nobody will see these."

Reuenthal digs his nails into Attenboroughs hands for a few heartbeats, but remains quiet. Attenborough lavishes his attention onto the sore mark, with lips and tongue. Reuenthals breathing is a little ragged.

Attenborough kisses his jaw one.

The kisses trail onto his Reuenthals face, presses everywhere but his lips for some while. They find every spot, even the ones that tickles.

Then there are finally the touch of lips against lips after so long-- an eternity and the blink of an eye, both.

Reuenthal is content, with the slow kisses that they share.

At least for now, he doesn't need anything except the sensation of Attenboroughs lips on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author sees and appreciates all comments, but replies may take time.


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